Bombastic Love
by alex-of-macedonia
Summary: Chloe is at work in a bank when there's a robbery, and Beca watches the events unfold on the news. TRIGGER WARNINGS: violence, death.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I only own the scenario I put the Pitch Perfect characters in, and a few OCs along the way.  
A/N: As stated above, please be advised that this work contains violence, death, [minimal] language, **and mentions of a rape**EDIT: I took the part with the rape out, so if you are re-reading this, there is no longer a trigger warning in effect for rape.**

* * *

The radio sitting on the workbench was playing some sad country song about a lost dog and not having money for rent. The tune and the singer's voice had the same twang as every other country song in the market, making Beca roll her dark blue eyes in annoyance. She wished she could ask for a different station, but 'Bubba' was under her car at the moment, and singing along loudly. Poorly, too.

Crinkling her nose in disgust, she checked her watch again. She still had two hours until Chloe went on her lunch break. All of Beca's work at the studio was cleared up for the rest of the day, so she wanted to surprise her girlfriend and take her somewhere nice.

If Bubba didn't hurry up though, she might have to wait to take Chloe out for dinner. If only her brakes hadn't been making that weird sound, she wouldn't be here.

"Hey, uh, Bubba? Any clue how much longer you'll be?" She only heard a non-committal grunt in response. Great.

She slumped back in her chair and let her head fall back against the wall. At least the television mounted on the wall was on. She could watch the muted news and pretend she cared what was going on in the world.

* * *

Two miles away, inside the women's bathroom in the First Regional City Bank, Chloe splashed a handful of water on her face. Sometimes being a financial advisor was difficult work. She had just dealt with a particularly stubborn woman who _insisted_ that her life savings be transferred to an account listed in an email to help a Nigerian prince, refusing to believe it was a scam.

Chloe dried her face off with a paper towel and pulled small canisters out of her purse to reapply her lipstick and mascara. Stepping back to admire her handiwork in the mirror, she undid the bun on the back of her head and redid her hair, making it tighter. Satisfied with her appearance, Chloe smoothed her blue blouse and stepped out of the restroom.

Her next few clients were luckily easy, and Chloe was in a much better mood as her lunch hour neared.

Clicking out of a window on her computer screen, she waved for the next waiting person to come over to her desk. As he approached, he kept looking over his shoulder at the bank of tellers and then back to her. The man shook Chloe's extended hand and asked, "I swear you just helped me over there?"

Chloe chuckled. "Oh, that's Sheila. Everyone always says we look like we could be sisters, but no relation. I'm Chloe; how can I assist you today?"

The man - Mr. McCormick - was quick and easy, and soon Chloe was able to leave for lunch. She walked around the corner to a back room to punch out, greeting coworkers as they came back from their breaks.

She stopped to use the restroom again before leaving the bank, and as she passed through an empty hallway of conference rooms, she heard a loud bang. Startled, she stopped in her tracks, but there was only silence. Then, as quickly as silence had fallen, it was shattered by screams and a series of more loud bangs.

A man's booming voice called out, "This is a robbery! Everyone face down on the floor, fingers locked behind your heads!"

Terrified, Chloe ducked into one of the conference rooms and quietly shut the door behind her. Her wide blue eyes scanned the room, and she ran to the far end to crouch in the space under a podium. She sat there, hugging her knees close to her chest, afraid to breathe for fear of being discovered.

* * *

Back in the mechanic shop, Beca was playing a game of Bad Lip Reading with the muted soap opera on the television.

"'But Ricardo, Jenny loves cookies and cream!' 'No, she loves knees!'"

She took a sip of Coke from a can she'd purchased from Bubba's vending machine and glanced at her watch again. Chloe's lunch started fifteen minutes ago, and a glance toward the fat man under her car told Beca that he seemed to be no closer to being done than he had been two hours before.

Beca lifted her gaze back to the television. Weird, she didn't recall any subplot in this soap that had to do with a bank. Especially a bank that looked just like…

The petite woman jolted out if her chair and rushed to the television. All of the volume and channel controls had been taped into place. She ran to the doorway leading into the workshop and shouted so the mechanic could hear her. "Hey! Bubba! How do I turn the tv sound on? I need to hear this story!" Following the direction in which he pointed his finger, Beca found a remote under a pile of old newspapers. Rushing back into the waiting area, she turned the sound all the way up.

"…witnesses heard gunshots come from within the First Regional City Bank at approximately 12:45 this afternoon. It is unclear if anyone has been injured at this time. Security was alerted to the situation by a teller pressing the alarm button, which came seconds before the calls to 911 started pouring in from witnesses outside. According to one eyewitness who is still at the scene, the doors have been barricaded closed, and there are multiple suspects visible inside. Police are on the scene now, setting up a perimeter…."

The television narrowed down to a small speck in Beca's vision. Her lungs felt like the air was made from concrete, hardening in her lungs.

* * *

Chloe had her hand clasped over her mouth to try to stifle her sobbing, and her breath was coming in short pants. The room she was hiding in was just around the corner from the main room where the robbers were, and she could hear everything. It sounded like there were three different men, and even though they had been given their bags of money, she heard them talking about police outside.

"Christ, Jim, what are we gonna do?! You know we can't get out of this now!" hollered Man One.

"Yeah, you said this would be a quick job! We'd get in and out! The fuck are we supposed to do now?" cried Man Two.

The third man, probably Jim, answered, "Tony, why don't you start walking around looking for a back way out. See if we can't still escape unnoticed. Greg, see if we got everybody here. I don't need no runners that can spoil our getaway when Tony finds our way out. I'll stay here with the hostages."

Chloe heard footsteps echoing out in the marble hallway, one of the men whistling as he started opening doors.

"Greg, goddammit, I can hear you whistling. Stop it or you're gonna alert anyone hiding to where you're at!" Jim called out. The man who had been whistling stopped his song, and Chloe heard him open her door.

His eyes did a sweep of the room, and, not being the most intelligent, didn't think to check under anything where a person could be hiding.

As he went to close the door to move on to the next room, he heard a cell phone beep.

* * *

_«I know u can't answer a call but please tell me if you're ok. Chloe baby I love you. Please say you went out for lunch already. I love you so much»_ Beca frantically typed out a text and hit 'send'. She sat back down in the chair, holding her head in her hands. She stared at the television, willing the newscaster to report that it was all over.

* * *

Greg tightened his grip on his handgun and walked across the room. Looking around the backside of a large speaking podium, he found a redheaded woman crouched within. Her tear-streaked face was both terrified and angry.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here. Today isn't your lucky day, sweetheart." He made to grab her elbow to pull her out of her hiding place, but she resisted, punching out toward his knees.

"Now that was stupid of you, honey. You really should not have done that." Her bun came undone as he grabbed a fistful of her hair. She yelped in pain, feeling herself being dragged upward and out of the podium.

Chloe didn't think about the gun in Greg's hand, or the fact that his bulky frame towered over her. She fought against him, flailing fists out and trying to shake his grip on her hair. She only managed to make him angrier when one of her swings landed a strike to the side of his face.

Holding Chloe at arm's length, he smacked her across the face with his other hand. "Stop fighting, dammit. You're just gonna make it worse on yourself."

She spat at his face.

Greg pointed the handgun directly into the woman's face and used the sleeve of his other hand to wipe the spittle from his cheek. "Now you've done it, you stupid bitch."

* * *

The petite woman was having more and more trouble sitting in the mechanic's shop, just watching the news unfold on the television. The reporter was saying that the suspects were continuing to be unresponsive to negotiation attempts.

Chloe still had not texted back. If she weren't in danger, she would have texted back by now. Beca couldn't take it any longer. She ran out the door and down the street toward the bank at full speed.

* * *

The larger man had Chloe pinned against the conference table, the barrel of the gun pressed against her temple. "You're going to regret that, bitch. Should've just come with me, and we could have played nicely. Now," he cocked the trigger, "I don't think anyone will really miss a cunt like you."

Chloe squeezed her eyes shut, praying she could be anywhere but here, but she knew she wasn't going to come out of this alive. She thought, 'I love you, Beca Mitchell,' really hard so that it would go out into the universe and maybe her girlfriend would know her last thoughts were of her.

* * *

Beca wanted to be running at breakneck speed, but she couldn't seem to be able to go fast enough. Lots of pedestrian traffic, bicyclists, and sidewalk vendors made an obstacle course, and she was losing. The bank was still thirty blocks away.

* * *

Looking over the masses of huddled bodies in the main room of the bank, Jim tried to think of an escape plan. Well, he had one, but that was his last possible option. Bombs were great as a scare tactic, but so many things could go wrong with that.

He shifted his grip on his rifle to check his wristwatch. 1:23pm. They had been in here for over half an hour, when all he'd wanted to do was get in, get out. He turned around toward the hallway that his friends had walked down. "Greg? Tony? Any news?" he called out.

He started walking toward the hallway to peer around the corner when he saw a woman waving her arm out of the corner of his eye. He turned to her, then to where she'd been looking. One of the bank security guards stood there, gun pointed at Jim's chest.

As the guard pulled the trigger, the woman screamed, "Stop! Don't you see the wires?"

The bullet pierced Jim's chest, but it also punched through the apparatus to trigger the bomb.

* * *

Now only ten blocks away, Beca felt the ground move under her feet as she heard an earth-shattering explosion and saw a fireball rip up into the sky.

"No…."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I apologize in advance for how much you're going to hate me for this.**

**As usual, I own nothing.**

* * *

The screams could be heard from four blocks away. Beca's feet pounded against the pavement as hard as her heart pounded against her rib cage. She could tell she was getting closer as the air around her grew thicker with smoke, and the temperature rose and crackled with heat.

Sirens wailed in the distance, coming closer and closer.

She turned the corner to see the bank. The entire front was a charred, smoking hole. "Chloe!" she shrieked as she ran toward the still-burning building. It took a full minute for her to register that she couldn't get any closer because a police officer had caught her, wrapping his arms around her to stop her.

Firefighters quickly arrived on the scene, attempting to lessen the blaze enough for emergency crews to run in and grab survivors... if there were any.

The police officer still had his strong arms around Beca, holding her back as she was still struggling to get to the bank. She heard him saying, "Honey, there's nothing you can do. Please, stop..." but his voice was faint and sounded far away. She couldn't get the image of Chloe out of her head. Chloe could be hurt, she could be... Beca refused to allow the thought to continue.

Some time later, after she'd exhausted all of her strength and energy, after her tears had run dry, Beca allowed herself to be pulled aside. They hadn't found anyone alive yet to treat, so she had been brought to sit on the back bumper of an ambulance, a shock blanket around her shoulders.

She was numb, and her head felt like it was both buzzing and like someone had filled it with cotton. It took three times for her to finally catch what the officer in front of her was saying.

"Miss, can you hear me? Can you understand me?" Beca's eyes finally focused on him, and she nodded. "Miss, you were screaming the name 'Chloe'. Was there someone inside who you knew?" Beca nodded, eyes filling with fresh tears. The officer's eyes softened. "Miss, I know this is going to be difficult, but..." He waved his hand over to a closed-off area where bodies were being laid on a tarp. "They think they've got everyone, and we'll need you to come down to the morgue to help identify bodies."

Beca sniffled, raising a finger to brush away a tear. She couldn't do this. She couldn't handle this. Her gaze fell to the ground beside the officer's feet. Shaking her head, she repeated the phrase rattling around in her head. "I can't. I can't. I can't..."

The officer patted her on the shoulder, unsure of how else to help the crying woman. He walked over to another officer, telling her to make sure the woman had someone come to get her and take her home.

Staring but not really seeing, Beca's eyes were trained on the entrance of the bank, willing Chloe to walk out any moment unscathed. The phone buzzing in Beca's pocket brought her out of her trance.

"Hello," she mumbled.

"Jesus, Beca, I've been trying to reach you for two and a half hours. What happened?" It was Aubrey, her voice strained and panicked. "I was in a meeting in Sacramento when Jesse texted me about... But I left as soon as I could and I'm driving down I-5, I think I just passed Fresno, and I'm probably breaking every freeway law, but I'm on my way. I'll be there in a few hours. Beca, answer me. Is Chloe...?"

The brunette cleared her throat, and whispered, "I- I don't know. There's still firemen inside, but it looks ... bad, Bree. I don't- I don't think she..."

A stifled sob could be heard on the other end. "Oh God, Beca, I'm so sorry. I'll be there ASAP. Just... Hang in there for me, please. Don't do anything drastic."

"I'm gonna call Jesse, get him to take me to the hospital or something. I don't think I can go home yet. They told me I have to id-iden..." her voice broke.

"Do you have to identify Chloe?" Aubrey's voice was soft, and Beca only responded with a fresh wave of sobbing. "Hey, why don't you stay on the phone with me. I'll call Jesse on the other line, and he can come get you. I'll come back in a second, okay?"

Looking around, Beca noticed that the sun was much lower in the sky. She had thought it was just smoky, but looking at the illuminated screen of her phone, she realized it was almost five p.m. A little notification box in the corner of the screen said she had thirty-seven missed calls, twenty text messages, and eight voicemails.

Putting Aubrey's call on speaker, Beca scrolled through the texts.

_Beca just heard. Chloe ok? Let us know xx_ -Stacie

_when u get this pls call ok?_ -Amy

_hey, we are concerned and haven't heard anything, good or bad. Call me. I love you..._ -Dad

_u weren't home or at the mechanic so idk where to pick u up. Called Aubrey to give her what news I could. Hang in there &let me know if u need anything_ -Jesse

The other messages were similar sounding, from her coworkers or Chloe's friends. Checking through the missed calls, Beca counted six from Jesse, two from her mom, one from Chloe's parents, and the rest were Aubrey.

The one message she wanted, the only missed call she cared about, wasn't there. If Chloe had been on lunch, that would mean she was okay, and would have gotten a hold of Beca by now.

Clutching the blanket closer around her shoulders, Beca leaned forward to rest her forehead on her knees. When she heard Aubrey's voice coming through the phone again, she numbly answered back, but didn't try to hold up her end of the conversation. Eventually she felt herself being pulled up into a bear hug.

"Jesse... I think she's really gone," she whispered. Beca clung to Jesse's shirt, burying her face in his shoulder. They stood there for a few minutes, and then Jesse led her toward his car. He helped her into the passenger seat and made sure her seat belt was secure. Beca watched him pull his phone out to send a text - probably to let Aubrey know she was in his care - and then he walked over to a policewoman. She gestured at the transport vehicles that they were loading the body bags into, then pointed west. Jesse nodded and headed back to the car.

As he buckled himself in, he outlined the plan for the night. Beca barely heard him, but nodded as if she understood. She'd caught the words 'home tonight' and 'morgue tomorrow', so she supposed she had the gist of it.

The drive across town was silent. Jesse didn't attempt to talk, and Beca didn't attempt to drown him out with music. He assured her that he would sleep on the couch in case she needed anything, and she locked herself in the bathroom for a shower.

* * *

An hour later, Beca finally turned the water off. She'd thought she might feel some kind of connection to Chloe's spirit, since they'd first bonded by Chloe interrupting her in the shower. Now all she felt was cold and pruny.

After toweling off, she dragged herself into the bedroom to get dressed. Everything was exactly how Chloe had left it this morning: makeup scattered across the vanity, the closet door slightly ajar with an outfit laid out to iron for tomorrow, and the post-it note she'd left on Beca's dresser, saying 'I love you xoxo'. Beca lightly ran her fingers over the note, wishing she'd woken up earlier; she could have said she loved her in person one last time.

Not caring that everything was three sizes too large, she pulled on Chloe's favorite sweatpants and t-shirt. As she entered the living room, Jesse lifted his head from the couch where he'd been lying on his side.

"You hungry?"

"No."

He made room for her to sit beside him, but she curled her body as small as possible against the end of the couch.

Jesse turned the television on, but left it muted as he clicked through the channels. "Bree will be here soon. She said she can grab pizza or something. I figured none of us would want to cook." Beca grunted. "I also called your dad, while you were in the shower. Let him know what's going on. Aubrey said she called Mr. Beale. She said he'll be on the first flight from Florida tomorrow." Another grunt. "I also called Stac-"

Beca cut him off. "That's great, Jesse." He opened his mouth, but stopped at the tired glare she shot him. "I just need to be alone now. I'm... I'm sorry." She grabbed Chloe's favorite blanket from the back of the couch and retreated to their bedroom.

She lost track of time again after she cocooned herself in the blanket and burrowed under the covers. She almost felt like she was being held by her girlfriend, and let herself be lost in the delusion. At some point, light from the hallway fell on her face when Aubrey opened the bedroom door to check on her. Beca rolled to her other side, and she was left alone again.

Sleep eluded Beca. Images of their lives together kept haunting her mind, and the memory of them singing Titanium finally sent her back over the edge into full-body sobs. She couldn't take it anymore. She had to hear Chloe's voice one more time.

Unravelling herself from the blankets, the petite woman sat herself on the edge of the bed and dialed. She would call and listen to the voicemail greeting as many times as she could, just to hear her partner one more time.

* * *

Across town, hidden behind a mountain of marble, concrete, and other debris, the glow of a cracked cell phone screen darkened, then relit to say 4 missed calls: Beca.

The ringtone began again a minute later. Halfway through its ringing, a set of light blue eyes fluttered open.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** **Sorry this took so long for me to update. I really don't have any excuses. I hope you enjoy this, and as usual, I do not own anything.**

* * *

Arriving at eight o'clock the evening of the robbery, a crew had been contracted by the city to clear the debris from within the First Regional Bank. The job needed to be done within two days. Workers were scattered everywhere, gutting out the building so the necessary work could be done to start rebuilding. Large pieces of marble and support beams were set aside by one team while another team came to pick them up and take it all away to dump trucks. Spotlights had been brought in to help them see what they were doing, making the air warmer and throwing a harsh edge to every inch of rubble within the bank's hollowed foyer. There was an eerie quality to the shadows contrasted against the harsh light, almost as if the spirits of the lives lost earlier that day still roamed.

One of the larger, heavier piles lay to the left, near where there had been a hallway. According to the blueprints, there was a partial second floor with offices for the bank's upper management, with an ornate balcony looking over the main room. The blast had caused the balcony to collapse, taking half of the upper hallway down to rest within the hallway below.

As dawn neared, one of the men assigned to the large pile set another block aside, and sat down on it to take a quick break. Wiping the sweat from his brow with an already filthy handkerchief, Brandon arched his back to relieve a kink. He leaned forward over his knees and reached for a water bottle.

A melody trailed faintly through the air. He thought it may just be his ears ringing along with the hunger pangs that were beginning to cramp his stomach –it had been hours since they'd all stopped for lunch– but then he heard it again. Brandon motioned for the worker closest to him to stop what he was doing. "Hey, Jerry, do you hear that?"

The larger man glared at his coworker. "Nah, man, don't start that again. Last time you pulled that shit, I was seeing ghosts in my frosted Wheaties for days." He shook his head and started to reach for another slab. The tune, still faint, rang again. Jerry's head jerked toward the sound, and his eyebrows drew together in disbelief. They both remained still, waiting for it to sound again, and when it did, Jerry quietly asked, "Is that… Is that a cell phone?"

They inched closer to the wall of rubble, listening for the tune to play again. Four rings, a two minute silence, then repeat. After the third repetition, Jerry cleared his throat and patted Brandon on the shoulder.

"We should get back to clearing this all out. I'm sure we'll find the phone eventually and be able to let the person know that their friend is gone."

Brandon nodded and squatted to lift a block, and Jerry turned to walk back to his section of the pile.

That's when they heard coughing, and a female voice crying out, "Can…can anyone hear me? P-plea… please help me!"

* * *

"Miss, can you hear us?"

Chloe managed to hoarsely, haltingly yell back, "Y-yes, I can… I can hear you! Please help… me! I'm stuck, I…I can't move my legs!"

"We're gonna get you out of there, miss! Just hang tight, okay?"

She laughed to herself at the irony of being told to hang tight when she was pinned down, but immediately regretted it as sharp pangs shot through her chest. She prayed she hadn't broken any ribs. She'd heard about bone splinters puncturing internal organs, and knew that could kill her.

Dim sunlight trickled through a window on the far side of the room, and it was just enough that she could begin to make out shapes of her surroundings.

Sections of the ceiling had fallen down and now lay on top of piles of what used to be the walls. The conference table, mangled and crumpled in on itself, lay in a corner. Chairs, in their various states of ruin, were scattered around the room.

She tried looking down to see how badly she was pinned. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she realized she could see an extra leg alongside her own. With horror, as she recognized another shape to be an arm, Chloe realized the bank robber lay crushed between her and the slab of concrete.

She almost felt a pang of sympathy for his death, as there was no way he could still be alive under there, but then flashes of memory flooded in as she remembered those last moments before the blast.

She could still feel the cold metal of the gun barrel against her temple; see the malicious gleam in the robber's eyes as he called her 'stupid bitch'; hear the harsh click of the bullet being slid into place as he cocked the weapon.

Then there had been a loud noise, what she had thought was the bullet exiting its chamber and entering her skull, but now she knew it had to have been a bomb or some kind of explosion.

Remembering that she had been about to die, that this man had been about to murder her, immediately washed away any feelings of sorrow or sympathy toward him. In a way, she was glad that he seemed to have traded his life to save hers. It seemed like karma had come through for her.

The sudden noise of her cell phone ringing again drew her attention away from the dead man on her feet. Her eyes oriented on where the phone was, but as much effort as she was willing to exert to lean over and reach for it was in vain: the device lay just out of reach, and her chest hurt too much to try further.

* * *

Beca finally emerged from her bedroom around noon, still clutching her cell phone to her ear. "_You've reached Chloe Beale! I'm sorry I'm unable to answer your call right now, but if you leave me a brief message and your name and number, I'll be sure to get back to you as soon as aca-possible. Have a great day!_"

She barely registered her friends huddled by the kitchen sink, speaking to each other in low, somber tones. The brunette hit redial and grabbed a box of crackers out of a cupboard. As the beginning strains of Gangsta's Paradise started playing again, she laid down on the couch, curling up on her side.

Aubrey exchanged glances with Jesse, and he waved toward the couch. "You get the first try."

She crossed the room and knelt in front of Beca. Smoothing back dark strands of hair from her face, the blonde waited for her friend to acknowledge her.

"Sweetie?"

Beca's eyes finally focused and met hers. "What?"

"I know this is going to be hard, Bec, but—"

"I can't go there. I can't identify her b… her body," Beca whispered. She shut her eyes, trying to close out the world.

Aubrey sighed, her hand falling to her side. "I suppose I can go in myself." She looked back over at Jesse, asking with her eyes, _"What do we do now?"_

The young man came over to squat next to Aubrey. "Bec…" he began. Her eyes opened, glaring at him, daring him to make her do the impossible. "Beca, you loved her. I think you owe it to her to make sure she rests in peace. That means confirming it's her, so we can lay her to rest. You need to be able to grieve properly, and that won't happen as long as you keep telling yourself she's still here."

Her eyes were squeezed shut again, fighting to hold back tears. She whispered, "Fine," and then covered her face with her arm. Her hand curled into a fist with the effort of trying not to cry again.

Jesse checked his watch. "It's 12:17, so we should get going soon, alright?" He heard a grunt of agreement, so he stood and went back into the kitchen. "I'll make more coffee to go. Aubrey, you want to help her get ready?"

The brunette allowed herself to be pulled off the couch and back toward the bathroom.

* * *

Judging by the length of the shadows, Chloe thought it was mid-afternoon. The pain in her legs had calmed to a dull throbbing, as long as she didn't try moving. Sleep kept pulling her into its soft, calming embrace, and she refused to listen to the small voice in the back of her mind saying, 'Don't sleep. Don't close your eyes. You don't know if you will wake up again.'

* * *

With Aubrey's hand resting on the small of her back in an effort to keep her calm, she and Beca walked down the basement hallway toward the morgue. She could hear the brunette muttering to herself under her breath, "You're doing this for her, dammit. Stop being a little shit, Beca, and do this for her. You can do this." She wished she knew what to say to her to help ease the pain, but words seemed inadequate.

The police officer who was leading them stopped in front of a door and held it open for the two women. Beca and Aubrey entered the cold room, taking in the rows of metal squares along three walls, the exam tables, and the racks of medical instruments. The morgue attendant stood up from a stool in the corner and walked over toward the women.

"I'd shake your hands, but…." He held up his gloved hands and cracked a half-smile. "So, you're here to identify someone from the bank explosion yesterday, yes?" Beca looked down at the tiled floor and nodded. He grabbed a clipboard off a desk in the corner in the room and scanned the list on the set of papers. "Alright, it looks like we have five bodies left that have not been identified, so do you have any major physical indicators? Male, female, obese, short, et cetera?"

Beca raked one hand through her hair. "Um, female, red hair."

The attendant flipped through his pages and then tapped a spot with one stubby finger. "Bingo! We only had one redheaded female brought in yesterday. That makes things easy."

He crossed the room, found the correct square, and pulled the drawer out. A sob escaped Beca's lips at the sudden sight of a body emerging from the wall, and Aubrey quickly pulled her into a hug. "Hey, don't you have any tact? You could have warned us you were about to do that."

The man shrugged. "Honey, you're in a morgue. What else would be in these drawers?"

The blonde glanced at the police officer, who seemed more interested in poking a bag of fluid hanging from an IV rack, and returned her death glare to the short man. She rubbed the smaller woman's back and asked, "Are you ready to do this?"

Beca took a deep, shuddering breath and set her shoulders. "Yes. I'm ready." She slowly walked over to where the attendant stood, took another deep breath with her eyes closed, and looked down at the body.

Flaming red hair was the only truly identifiable part of the woman in front of her. The face had been swollen and damaged beyond recognition.

Beca Mitchell stared down at the lifeless body of the love of her life. As much as she had cried the previous day and well into that morning, she only felt numb now. How could she process this? How could she go on from this? Her light had been snuffed out, and the path ahead now only held darkness for her.

Before she could say yes to it being Chloe, she wanted to hold her hand one last time. Beca reached for the right hand that lay limply at the body's side, but something caught her eye.

Rather, the absence of something caught her eye.

"Aubrey?" Beca called to her friend.

The blonde rushed over and quietly said, "Beca, if you need a minute before you can confirm, I'm sure they'll understand." She placed a comforting hand on the brunette's shoulder.

"No, look." Beca was holding the body's right arm, palm up, examining the forearm.

Aubrey glanced between the arm and Beca's face. "I don't… What am I looking at?"

"There's supposed to be a tattoo there. Right? A tattoo of a ladybug, right there." Beca shook the arm with emphasis.

As soon as Beca said it, Aubrey quickly recalled going along with a then-twenty-year-old Chloe to a tattoo parlor, the redhead getting a ladybug on her right wrist, and she got a dolphin on her left hip. "You're right," she murmured.

"This isn't Chloe. She's still in there somewhere." Beca began to look excited, but her face just as quickly fell. "…If she were alive though, she would have contacted me. So she must just be… under a pile of rubble…."

* * *

Back at the ruins of the First Regional Bank, Officer Jenny Marquez' cell phone rang in her pocket. She fished it out and quickly walked to a quiet spot to answer.

"Marquez speaking."

"It's Davis. I'm at the morgue, and I've got a young woman here who was supposed to ID a body, but she says this is the wrong person. You're looking for one more set of remains, so tell the crew to tread carefully while moving debris."

Marquez glanced over her shoulder at the dozen men working to uncover the trapped woman. "Actually, Davis, I think we might have already found her, and she's alive."

* * *

Jesse wasn't sure what he had been expecting when the women came back from the morgue, but he definitely wasn't expecting Beca to come running back to the car, yelling for him to drive them to the bank as fast as possible.

No one spoke as he flew down the freeway. There was an almost unspoken agreement that as long as they didn't speak, they couldn't break the bubble of hope that Chloe had been found alive.

* * *

As the day wore on, and the crew worked tirelessly to get to her, Chloe could feel the pain in her legs intensifying. She realized she wasn't falling asleep so much as passing out from the pain. Each time she came back to consciousness, it sounded like they were closer to her.

* * *

The last slab of marble was pulled aside, and immediately a paramedic and three of the workers rushed in. The paramedic knelt beside Chloe's head while the workers attempted to move the block of concrete off her legs.

"She's unconscious, but alive," the EMT announced. He used the radio on his shoulder to request a stretcher, and started checking her upper body to see if anything needed immediate care.

Once the concrete was removed, they gingerly removed the body of the bank robber and the paramedic worked to immobilize Chloe's legs. He and a second emergency worker carefully moved her onto the stretcher and raced her toward the ambulance. A short brunette woman was standing beside the vehicle.

* * *

When Jesse pulled up to the bank, Beca jumped out of the car and tried running inside. A police officer caught her before she got too far and told her to wait by the ambulance so she wouldn't get in the way.

She was feeling a mix of emotions. Joy - there was a chance this person was Chloe. Fear - this person might not be Chloe. Dread – it might be too late.

Beca could barely contain herself when she saw two paramedics rushing a stretcher toward her. _No body bag_, she noted. That was a good sign, right?

She began crying as soon as she saw her girlfriend's telltale fiery hair.

"I'm her girlfriend. Can I please ride with her?" she asked one of the men. He nodded and after they got Chloe inside and buckled the stretcher down, Beca was allowed to climb in.

As they sped toward the hospital, the EMT in the back started working on getting Chloe's vital signs. They'd been driving for a few minutes, Beca clinging to one hand after she'd been told it was alright, when she felt fingers tighten their grip around hers.

"B…Beca?"

The brunette jumped up and looked down into her girlfriend's eyes. She could barely see her through a wall of fresh tears, but she'd never forget the relief and love in those crystal blue eyes as they opened.

Beca smiled. "Hey, baby. You're going to be okay. We're in an ambulance, and they're going to make sure you're okay."

"Bec, I was so scared." Chloe's voice was raspy, frail. She looked like she was in pain just speaking, so Beca leaned down and gently pressed her lips to her girlfriend's.

"I know you were, baby. It's all over now. You're alive, and I'm here, and that's all that matters."

In the end, that really was all that mattered.


End file.
